


Self-Destruct With Me

by seeyaloki



Series: With Me [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 12:23:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6566071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seeyaloki/pseuds/seeyaloki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He doesn’t know if it’s love, or if it’s lust or comfort or desperation. It’s Liam. That’s enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Self-Destruct With Me

Los Angeles is nothing like Bradford.

There’s a light that he isn’t used to, not even after all these years. Almost five now. The people are different, living their lives in ways he never had the chance to. There’s a relaxed atmosphere, no one worrying about anything. He’s tired. He sees the world from hotel rooms, up on stages, faces and faces he tries to remember but can’t. The world stops turning for him for a while. He sings his heart out and goes to sleep in a strange bed with cold sheets, thinking he could be more than this.

Zayn’s door is open. He can hear the fans screaming outside, some way always finding out where they are no matter how hard management tries to hide them away from the public until it’s time to entertain them again. Zayn wishes he could join them sometimes. Blend in with the crowd in front of a hotel entrance, screaming his lungs out for people who don’t even know his name. He thinks it might be liberating. To be on the other side of the stage once, to make posters and wear self-made shirts, sing along with his favorite parts and just _be_. But he’s not normal, no matter how much he tries to convince himself he is. He’s not just _Zayn_ anymore. Hasn’t been since he decided to set foot on a stage and tried to convince Simon Cowell he was worth it. Things change, he knows. But he never expected to be one of them.

“You okay, mate?”

It’s Liam, because it always is. Because when Zayn’s door is open, Liam is the only one brave enough to push it open wider.

“Yeah, man.”

“Are you sure?”

Zayn steps away from the window, tall glass from ceiling to floor. The city is spread out in front of them, colored in soft hues he never saw before he stepped on a plane for the first time. Louis whispering lies in his ear and Liam giggling and nodding along but grabbing his hand nonetheless when Zayn felt the air move around him and his breath caught in his throat.

“Yeah, Li. Just tired, man.”

Liam sits down on Zayn’s bed, leaning back against the leather headboard like he belongs there. He kind of does, anyway. Liam was born for this. Born to put his soul into words he can’t figure out how to say but knows how to sing. With a melody and rhythm in his veins, made to take a stage and entertain a crowd and spend his nights sipping whisky from a minibar and watch the sun set in places he never imagined being in.

He’s not like Zayn, who likes the quiet of his small bedroom and paint underneath his fingernails. His mom’s cooking and singing along to Frank Ocean and Chris Brown and all the people he never thought he would meet in real life. If they were a painting, Liam would take up the whole canvas but Zayn would just sign his name. Zayn is _I was here, that’s all you need to know_ while Liam is _watch me and don’t ever look away_.

Zayn has never looked away from Liam once in his life, but he can’t tell him that because he’s 21 years old and terrified of being in love.

“Stop brooding.”

Zayn frowns, because words like _brooding_ sound weird coming from him. He tries to smooth out his brow anyway, plasters a smile on his face because Liam always deserves a smile. No matter how moody Zayn gets, no matter how much he’s _brooding_.

“’m not, bro.”

Liam rolls his eyes, he became good at that. Too much time spend on a tourbus with Louis Tomlinson, letting himself be corrupted because Liam was always worried about not fitting in with the rest of them. Even though Zayn told him, back when Liam’s curls still covered his eyes and their success hadn’t left the UK yet, that he didn’t need to worry. That _Liam Payne_ was all he needed to be.

“You are. But fine, we won’t talk about it then.”

Zayn kicks of his sneakers and lies down on the bed. Liam’s close, because he always is and because his body radiates warmth, a certain sense of comfort Zayn has been trying to explain to himself for nearly five years now.

“Thanks, mate.”

He turns his face towards Liam, who’s already looking at him with a soft smile on his face. He doesn’t do this with anyone else. Doesn’t walk into hotel rooms and throws himself down on the bed, he only found a way into Zayn’s life like that. Managed to conquer a place he fits in and no one else.

(managed to conquer Zayn’s heart with soft hands and whispered words but he doesn’t want to think about that.)

“What’re you doing here, anyway? I thought you said you were taking a kip first thing?”

Liam slides down the bed until he’s at eye level with Zayn, hand shoved beneath the pillow. He can feel his warm breath on his face, can practically count his eyelashes. But he’s stuck on Liam’s smile, doesn’t notice his other hand as it comes up to stroke two fingers across his cheek before moving up to his hair. It’s long now, not as long as Harry’s but getting there. A soft fringe he hasn’t had in ages. Liam loves it, can’t manage to keep his hands from tangling in the black strands whenever he has the chance.

“I am.”

“And you can’t do that in your own bed?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t like my company, Zee,” He whispers, tugging on the soft hairs at the back of his neck until Zayn reaches up to grab his wrist. Wraps his fingers around _Only Time Will Tell_ and doesn’t let go even after Liam’s hand goes back to softly stroking his fringe away from his forehead. “It’s petulant.”

“ _Petulant_ ,” Zayn snorts. And his fingers leave Liam’s wrist, crawl up Liam’s arm till he passes his shoulder and presses it underneath his jaw, where his scruff scrapes against the pads of his fingers and Liam giggles because _I’m ticklish there, Zaynie_

“You’ve been spending too much time on Harry’s word of the day app.”

Their legs tangle together and Zayn thinks he can spend the rest of his life like this. Locked up in a hotel room with Liam, expensive curtains drawn, in a city that only became home because Liam is right next to him.

“Have not,” He says, but Zayn sees him every day, grabbing Harry’s phone from his bag and focusing on the screen like he’s on a mission. Because people say things sometimes and Liam has a tendency to take them all to heart.

“I’m just.. Improving.”

“You don’t have to improve for anyone, babe.”

Liam frowns and Zayn hates it. Hates that he’s the one who made him do so, that no matter how hard he tries to make everyone smile, Liam doesn’t count. Liam needs more than a wave or an autograph, or a reply on twitter. Liam doesn’t do simple, he does whole heartedly and Zayn has never been like that.

“I’m not doing anything for anyone other than myself, Zayn. I’m not completely clueless, I know I’m not the smart one in this band. Not by a long shot.”

“Hey. _Hey,_ ” Zayn reaches a hand out, cups Liam’s chin and makes him look. Liam does that, thinks no one wants to look at him so he averts his eyes before anyone even gets the chance.

“M’sorry, Li. I didn’t mean it like that, yeah? I love you, Payno. Just the way you are, ‘kay?”

Liam smiles, his eyes crinkling around the corners. He fists a hand in Zayn’s shirt and lets it rest there, shuffles closer than he already was. Zayn doesn’t want to think. If he starts thinking he’ll ruin it. He’ll think of how much he loves Liam, and how much he loves One Direction and how much he isn’t right for either.

“Quoting good o’le Mars at me, are ya? ‘S a bit sappy, don’t you think?”

“Shut it, arse. You know I’ve got a soft spot for ‘im.”

Liam is laughing though, and Zayn can’t help but join in because this is all he wants. All he’s ever wanted since they met at McDonalds, since Zayn thought him how to draw a tree somewhere in the South of Spain and since Liam crawled into his bed in the X-factor house. Because Zayn was scared and nervous and Liam just _knew_.

“Yeah, I know.”

Their laughter fades away until only soft smiles remain. Liam rises from the bed, changes out of his clothes until he’s only wearing his boxers and Zayn has to look away. He turns on his side, back to Liam as he hears him walk up to the light switch, bare feet soft on the carpet. The room turns dark then and the bed dips underneath Liam’s weight. Zayn holds his breath, knows what’s coming next. He feels Liam come closer, until there’s barely an inch between them and his chest is plastered to Zayn’s back.

Almost like puzzle pieces they fit together. Liam’s arm a heavy weight around his waist and a cold hand creeping underneath his top, pressed to his stomach, fingers brushing against a soft trail of dark hairs leading into his shorts. They fit. _A perfect match_ his mother had said once, when Zayn was nearing 19 and all he could talk about was _Liam is great, mum_.

“I love you, Zaynie.”

Zayn swallows the lump in his throat and tries to relax as Liam presses a wet kiss to the back of his neck. His nose tickles and his hand moves lower, pushes Zayn even closer to his chest.

“Love you too, babe,” he whispers and he keeps his eyes open until Liam’s breathing slows down and his arm goes lax around his waist. Zayn is jagged around the edges and he can’t do this. He can’t fit with Liam, because it would mean Liam would have to adjust as well. Break where Zayn is broken too so that they can fall into place together. Zayn doesn’t want that. He doesn’t ever want Liam to feel what he feels.

The lights are off in Los Angeles, the city quiet in a way it never is by day. The colors are dull now, a darkness that follows Zayn wherever he goes. The room is cold and Liam forgot to pull up the covers, white sheets a mess at their feet. Zayn wonders if there’s a thing as being too in love. Being so infatuated with a person that you might ruin them just as much as you’ve ruined yourself.

He wonders if Liam would self-destruct with him if he asked him to. If he would leave the stage and leave the band and go hide out somewhere in a small bedroom with Zayn. With paint underneath his fingernails and r&b tunes in the background.

He doesn’t want that. He doesn’t ever want that but he can’t help but wonder as Liam snuffles against his neck and wraps a leg around his. He’s terrified of being in love because he’s bad at it. Because he knows it’ll completely ruin him. Because Liam won’t follow him, because Liam does things like word of the day even though Zayn doesn’t want him to. Liam is _Liam_ and Zayn is just Zayn. He might not be normal, but he’s nothing special, either.

So he falls asleep in a strange bed, with cold sheets at his feet and a warm body pressed close. He thinks he can be more than One Direction. He thinks he can be more than hopelessly in love with someone he doesn’t want to change. He falls asleep thinking he can be more than just _this_.

Things change. But some things just _don’t_. No matter how much he might want them to.

 

*******

It started like this;

Closed eyes, waking up too early to start a life he never dreamed of having. People staring at him where he’s trying to conquer England with his voice. Nervous. Scared.

A boy with a Bieber haircut and a voice that blows everyone away. Late nights in a strange house, soft touches and lingering thoughts.

Liam opened his eyes.

He watched Liam grow into this man, this bloody wonderful being. He watched him take risks and chances and step out of line. He watched him fall in love with a girl who didn’t deserve him and watched him fall out. Watched him make mistakes and struggle as he tried to fix them. He watched Liam on stage and watched him steal people’s hearts with a high note or a dance move. He watched him grow into his body, strong muscles and the planes of his back flexing as he moves. Watched him and he was beautiful. Still is. He watched him breathe and watched him be. Zayn watched him bend and break and fall and get back up.

He watched Liam so intently, so focused, that he forgot to close his eyes again.

*******

It’s not light out yet when he wakes up. Los Angeles is still quiet and he can see the shadows dancing, can see Liam’s figure move inside the bathroom.

He always does this, never manages to sleep through the entire night without having to get up at least once. Whether it’s to pee or light a cigarette out on a balcony in a city he can’t remember the name of. Or to stare at himself in the mirror, trying to figure himself out like Zayn does sometimes. Trying to find a smile that fits his face even though it’s not meant and trying to make his eyes crinkle at the corners because they always do when he really smiles and the fans are perceptive, they _notice_.

Liam comes out of the bathroom quietly, thinks Zayn is still asleep. He runs a hand through his hair, free from product, hanging limply on his forehead. He’s only wearing boxers and Zayn can’t help it this time as his eyes move downward to his chest, patches of blondish hair he wants to bury his nose in, breathe him in and keep him in his lungs forever.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Zayn’s eyes snap to Liam’s, guilt adorning his features. He’s so soft like this, arms dangling by his sides, the light he always forgets to turn off illuminating his body. He looks even more tired than Zayn feels.

“You didn’t.”

He expects Liam to crawl back into the bed. It feels too big without Liam next to him. Too cold. Feels too much like a place he doesn’t belong in. Instead he walks towards the window, where LA is spread out in front of them, a landscape he’ll never get used to.

They’re the same. Zayn knows that. They’re the same because he has thoughts and lingering stares and unnecessary touches and he knows Liam has those too. Maybe they’re both scared, of falling in love and what it means and falling out of it, most importantly. Because they’ve always been like that. Can’t start anything without wondering how it will end.

“I don’t want you to go.”

Zayn sits up, kicks the covers away from his feet and stands up from the bed. Liam isn’t supposed to think like that. He’s supposed to be all smiles and blind faith in Zayn’s loyalty. If he ever planned to walk out of Liam’s life, he’d do it like this; in the middle of the night when the city is still dark, pack his bags quietly and leave without saying a word. He wouldn’t want to see Liam’s face and he wouldn’t want to talk. Because Liam knows how to make him stay put, and that’s a weakness Zayn can’t always give into.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“But you want to,” He says, and he presses a hand to the glass. As if that’ll make him more connected to the people out there. The ones who don’t care what his name is, or what he does for a living or how much he destructs himself.

“I know you do, Zayn.”

He can’t resist, has to walk up to Liam. He doesn’t turn around but Zayn doesn’t want him to. He just presses close, ignores the warmth of Liam’s bare skin and lets his forehead drop to the back of Liam’s neck. He doesn’t want to talk because if he does, he’ll lie. And Liam doesn’t deserve that. So he just wraps his arms around his waist, the hair on Liam’s torso tickling his underarms as he breathes him in, prays that even after almost five years Liam still knows how to figure him out through touch alone.

“Can you at least tell me when?”

Tears are forming in the corners of his eyes. And he hates crying but Liam always makes him weak. His hands are still pressed against the glass and Zayn wants to take them in his, pack their bags and just run and do it all together. But he doesn’t. He just breathes and even that seems nearly impossible.

“When I’m too tired to keep going, I guess.”

It’s a shit answer but Liam nods anyway, leans his head back and lets it drop to Zayn’s shoulder. He’s so beautiful like this. He always has been, even when he didn’t think he was. When he was still curly hair and oxford shirts and singing _you don’t know you’re beautiful_ when he didn’t even know that himself.

“You’re my escape, babes,” he whispers, and Liam’s eyes fall shut, one hand coming to wrap around Zayn’s wrist, around old and new tattoos and a pulse that seems to pick up whenever Liam so much as breathes near him.

“My only escape.”

“Until you really escape.”

Liam is so close, his body warm and Zayn was serious when he said he wanted leave with him. Take his hand and never let it go until they’re far away from studios and stages and people that want something from them. He doesn’t care if it destroys him. As long as Liam stays with him.

“Do you love me?” He asks instead. Because he’s weak like that, because he has a habit of reading into things wrong.

“That’s the stupidest question you’ve ever asked me,” Liam’s hands leave his and he turns around, gets even closer than he was before. Chest to chest and nose touching his.

“You know I do, Zee.”

Zayn nods, scared. And he’s always scared, isn’t he? Scared of a life he should be grateful for, scared of what people might think of him, scared of a stage and scared of a boy, a _man_. And of falling in love with him. And maybe even more scared of what it means if Liam fell in love too.

“Kiss me, then.”

Maybe being scared is overrated. Because when Liam cups his cheeks in his hands and leans down to press his lips against Zayn’s, he’s not scared. He isn’t when Liam pushes closer and lets his tongue slip into his mouth, beards rubbing together and Zayn’s fingers pressed into naked skin. He’s floating, yeah. Feels free for the first time in his life as Liam lets his fingers slip away from his jaw and places them underneath his shirt instead, wraps a hand around his waist and pushes closer _closer_ until there’s nothing between them besides the material of the clothes they’re wearing.

Liam kisses like his life depends on it, groaning into his mouth as his tongue explores Zayn’s and he bites at his lip as he pulls away, only a second, eyes flicking up to meet Zayn’s. Pupils blown and heavy breathing and he’s so _gorgeous_ before he comes back and shoves Zayn’s shirt up and off, hands on his ass as he presses their lower halves together and Zayn moans.

Zayn’s hard in his boxers and Liam is too, cocks rubbing together and it’s so good. He’s never done this with a guy, doesn’t think Liam has either but it feels like coming home when he manages to shove Liam’s shorts down low enough and wraps a hand around his dick.

“Fuck, Zayn.”

He tightens his grip, it’s too dry but Liam isn’t complaining. Instead he slips his hands into Zayn’s shorts, grabs his ass and pulls him against him, rubs his cock against Zayn’s stomach and moans again.

“Yeah, you want that?”

“Yes, babe. You, I want _you_.”

He’s not scared when Liam pushes him towards the bed and shoves his boxers all the way down, almost trips over Zayn’s shirt and giggles until he looks up and sees him naked on the bed. He’s not scared when Liam presses kisses into his stomach before he takes Zayn’s cock into his mouth, inexperienced and fumbling but perfect. He’s not scared when Liam opens him up, with careful fingers and soft moans because _fuck, Zee, you look so good like this_. He’s not scared, not even when Liam pushes his cock inside of him for the first time, agonizingly slow but so, so good. Zayn wraps his legs around Liam’s waist and their hips rock together. It’s all he’s ever wanted, breathing into each other’s mouths and crying out each other’s names as they come.

He’s not scared tonight. He might be in the morning, but not tonight.

“You’re the best kind of heartbreak, Li.” He whispers, when the sun is coming up and Liam is fast asleep beside him.

He’s not scared, but it feels like he should be for once.

*******

They don’t stop. Zayn’s not sure if it’s love, sneaking in kisses backstage when no one is watching, a hand on his ass and whispers in his ear when the spotlight is not on them. They don’t tell anyone, not even their own bandmates. Zayn slips Liam the copy of his key card and waits for him at night, when everyone’s sleeping. And then it’s quick kisses, bodies grinding together under the sheets.

He doesn’t know if it’s love. Because sometimes Liam will go rough on him, push him up against the wall and take him like that, clothes not even fully off and legs wrapped around Liam’s waist. Sometimes they go slow. Zayn in Liam’s lap, bodies rocking together and gasping _I need you_ ’s into each other’s mouths.

He doesn’t know if it’s love, or if it’s lust or comfort or desperation. It’s _Liam_. That’s enough.

*******

Until it isn’t anymore.

*******

They don’t fight about it. They don’t scream at each other like he thought they would. Like he thinks they _should_. Liam doesn’t move, doesn’t even look at him. He just sits there with his head in his hands like not looking at Zayn will make it easier.

“You knew it was coming, Li.”

“So what, Zayn. Is that supposed to make it hurt any less?”

He wants Liam to yell at him, to throw something at him, break stuff. Because at least that would make it more real, the whole thing. At least that would make it clear, that he really does love Zayn. Because at least then he’d be fighting for it. Even if the person he’d be fighting is Zayn himself. He doesn’t. He just sits there, on a hotel bed with cold sheets, like where they started out in the first place.

“Ofcourse not, but Liam- ”

“No, Zayn! No, you don’t get to do this,” he stands up and finally there’s some expression on his face. He always thought it was funny when Liam got angry. Red faced and the vein on his forehead popping out. It isn’t funny now. Not when Zayn’s on the brink of letting go and Liam’s on the brink of letting him fall.

“You always ask me to stay, Zayn. Every night I spend with you, every damn time you always ask me to stay and I always do! It’s not fair. It’s not fucking _fair_ that you’re the one who ends up leaving!”

He remembers why he didn’t want to fall in love now. Why he can’t start anything without wanting to know how it will end because _this_ is how it ends.

“It’s different.”

“No, it isn’t, Zayn.”

“It _is_. Because I love you, Li. But I don’t love _this_. I can’t stay! I just can’t.”

He thinks this is where they break. Where they take off their masks for the first time in months and realize that what they see might not be what they want.

Liam doesn’t get angry again, he just scoots further down the bed and leans his back against the headboard, face turned towards the ceiling. He looks done. Empty. Zayn feels empty too. Has for a long while now. But he was afraid to say anything, tried to keep it inside until tonight on stage, he almost broke down in front of thirty thousand people and the first thing he did when he got back was pack his bags and told an assistant to book him a flight back to London.

“I know. _Fuck_ , Zayn, I know.”

It feels like giving up. Maybe it’s supposed to. Maybe love is temporary like that, maybe theirs was. He doesn’t know what to do now, just crawls up the bed and sits down next to Liam, uncurls his fists and takes them into his own. They sit there until the lights outside fade away, just breathing each other in. Liam’s forehead is pressed against his temple and once in a while he’ll press a kiss there. To remind Zayn that he’s still there, that he is _staying_ , waiting until Zayn can’t anymore.

“Zee, remember when you said I was your escape until you really escaped?”

“Yeah, babes.”

Liam turns away from him them, reaches up to turn off the light switch. Zayn watches him, like he’s been doing from the very start, like his life was displayed before him. A shy kid, 17 years old and already ruling the world. Now he’s watching that same boy, a 21 year old man, still ruling the world, ruling Zayn’s world. A little broken now, but not as broken as he is and that’s all he’s ever wanted.

“You were mine, too.”

He doesn’t know when Liam falls asleep, all he knows is that he doesn’t. That he keeps staring, reaches out to touch every once in a while because he doesn’t know when he’ll get the opportunity again.

Zayn’s always had a knack for self-destructing. For finding ways to destroy himself, not necessarily bad. Not in the sense of hurting himself, or wanting to. More in the way of falling in love, knowing that he’d have to fall out of it someday. He wonders if Liam self-destructs, too. If he ever feels like he only loves Zayn because he likes the way it hurts.

He doesn’t know. He’ll never ask. Some questions are better left unanswered, and that’s why he whispers how much he loves Liam in the dead of night, with a tired city below them, in a foreign country and everything he’ll have to say goodbye to surrounding him. He says it then because he doesn’t want to know.

He remembers how in Los Angeles, he thought he could be more than this, whatever _this_ is. Now he just thinks he can’t possibly be more than what he was with Liam.

Liam is far from awake, but he lets out a mumble that sounds a hell of a lot like an _I love you too_.

*******

It’s only when a new day begins, birds chirping outside because Spring has just begun, when he gets a call from his assistant that his jet is waiting, that he slips into his shoes. Goes to grab his toothbrush from the sink in the bathroom and ignores Liam’s. It’s only then that he stops, looks around. Thinks that maybe the whole world is nothing like Bradford, and that he’s only ever meant to be where home is.

His eyes land upon Liam, like they always do. He’s still in his jeans, white shirt pushed up a little where Zayn couldn’t resist touching him last night. He’s still asleep, and he’s still so beautiful that Zayn forgets to breathe for a second.

“You were made for this.” He whispers to him, made for the same _this_ Zayn couldn’t for the life of him figure out.

 _And I wasn’t_ he doesn’t say. Even though he knows.

He takes a deep breath then, makes up for all the times he couldn’t breathe at all and looks around. Thinks of his mom and sisters and England and home, and of how Liam won’t be a part of it any longer. He thinks of a stage and thousands of people who defended his name no matter what and how stepping away is repaying them in a way, even though they might not realize that yet.

He thinks of his boys, of songs and words and fights and good memories and nightmares and he thinks that nothing in the world will ever compare to what he got to do here. And he thinks that he’ll finally have some time now, to figure out what _this_ is.

Zayn never liked rollercoasters, but his life is one. And the way down is always so much more thrilling than the way up.

Liam doesn’t wake up, not once. Not even when Zayn reaches forward to press a kiss to his soft lips and stroke his fingers through his hair.

He leaves then. And he doesn’t look back.

*******

And when he gets back, breathes in the fresh London air for the first time in way too long and walks around like’s been dying to do, he gets a message. Not an angry one, or a disappointed one.

Just; _I love you too, Zee._

He smiles the smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners, because he’s _home_.

**Author's Note:**

> Did it suck? I feel like it did.
> 
> Anyway, you can find me on twitter @KingNiallerjh i basically tweet Ziam and Niall all day. Oh and the ocassional Larry too.


End file.
